Rivock Well, Riddlesden

A last minute diversion due to ill-omened dreams led us to Rivock Well in the mystical realms of West Yorkshire. We parked up with some other cars by the side of the road, climbed the dry-stone wall and headed off on the path across the sheep fields. Poo and bogginess were hazards as we headed towards the cultivated conifer woods surrounding the summit of Rivock Edge. Indeed, the gate we use to enter the woods had a massive puddle in front, requiring some fancy manoeuvring to get through without wet feet. The atmosphere in the woods was eerie to say the least: no sounds, no movement - just a deadening carpet of brown pine needles and dense tangles of tree limbs. We followed the path to a viewpoint with a poem carved into two slabs of sandstone and realised we had missed our way somewhere. Back-tracking to the stream we had crossed, we steeled our nerves and plunged into the woods, carefully threading our way along the high bank of the crystal clear stream. There was generally a couple of feet of space to walk along and I noticed that some of the tree limbs appeared to have been pruned back at some point to allow access. Rounding a bend, we saw a couple of (fairly rotten) bits of wood bridging the waters and leading across to a rather brown-looking pool - we had found the well.

Reading up later, it turns out we would have had an easier trip if we'd followed the broad bridlepath that led through the middle of the wood. But even that had its dangers - shadowy hooded spirits have been seen there...

Rivock Well at The Northern Antiquarian